


Mending

by FactoryKat



Series: The Mages' Champion and the Healer's Hope - The Wyatt Hawke Collection [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders Being Anders, Blood and Injury, Custom Male Hawke (Dragon Age), Hawke being Hawke, Healing, Love, M/M, Purple Hawke, handers - Freeform, mhanders - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 08:55:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18070334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FactoryKat/pseuds/FactoryKat
Summary: In which Anders tends to an injured Hawke and they share a tender moment while discussing what happened.





	Mending

**Author's Note:**

> Continuing my trend of one word titles. This is also a drabble based on a writing prompt from Anders POV. Carver's position as Warden, Templar or otherwise is left purposefully ambiguous. I just felt he was needed for this little writing piece and couldn't decide what worked best.

**Prompt - Anders: A moment of calm, a hand cupping a cheek then brushing back hair, pleased, blue and brown**

 

He heard the commotion before it arrived on his doorstep, voices echoing through the bleak corridors in the Undercity. Darktown. The sewers. It had many names, and was home to many refugees and Kirkwall’s poorest. Many gangs sought it out as an ideal place to squirrel themselves away from the rest of the city, so the noise wasn't out of place. Anders was accustomed to the setting, to the cries of the destitute and the violence amongst rival gangs. What he didn't expect was for the shouting and bickering to reach crescendo, coming closer and closer until the heavy doors of his clinic practically burst open.

He didn't instinctively reach for his staff, or abandon the patient who sat perched on a cot in front of him, bathed in the soft blue glow of healing magic. Had he suspected for a moment the raucous a result of a templar raid, his hackles would have been much more raised. No. He had recognized the low timbre of his lover's voice and the familiar, husky tone of Aveline’s following after.

In fact he hadn't even looked up until he was finished with the young man.

“Hawke, not now love. I’m-”

“Going to heal my idiot brother and then tell him to stop picking fights with the templars. That's what!” Carver’s voice joined the others. This time getting Anders’ full attention.

When his eyes fell on Wyatt, supported by both his brother and a furious looking Aveline, his baser instincts - those that came with being in a romantic relationship - nearly overrode those as a healer.

Hawke griped and groaned as the pair helped him to an empty cot. The blood was almost lost in the man's dark red hair, but it was easy to see on his tanned face, a smeared mess across his right eye and seemingly originating from a deep gash on his head and jutting through his brow. He squinted, his right completely closed.

“Maker! What happened?  _Wait_ \- picking fights? With templars?”

Anders drew in a breath and apologized to the family he had been helping. Fortunately, they understood and gathered themselves to leave the new group in private.

Aveline stood back, watching like a protective parent, her face a mask of both concern and disappointment. All the while, Carver closed the clinic doors behind the last three people out the door, his armor clinking with each movement.

“Yes. In the tavern,” Aveline confirmed. “Honestly, Hawke, I don't know what's gotten into you!”

“Nothing, Aveline. I'm fine. It's fine.” Wyatt grumbled and (gently) tried swatting away the healer’s hands as he approached, but not without a gasp of pain. His arm. Anders could see a few deep lacerations and the bruises already forming in other places. He frowned, staring down at his partner and the love of his life with much scrutiny. On a surface level assessment, Hawke was in no immediate danger of bleeding out or otherwise succumbing to his injuries but he still looked worse for wear.

“You don't  _look_  fine, my love…” Anders whispered idly, hands already busy preparing bandages and clean water. He ignored the two chatting in the background. At least they were giving him space.

Wyatt huffed, looking and sounding every bit like a lost mabari pup. Anders hid his oddly pleased smile that formed then. In the five or so years that Hawke had spent in Kirkwall, he still couldn’t be any more Ferelden if he tried.

“Dare I ask what happened?” By all rights, he should be thrilled. Someone putting the templars in their place was exactly the sort of thing he liked to hear. Knowing it was Hawke only made him worry. He was the Champion. He had status, money, the respect of the city but he was still a mage -  _an apostate_  - and one wrong move could easily bring the Knight-Commander down on everything he had worked so hard to achieve.

Hawke flinched under his touch as his hands moved to brush back strands of hair from the wound above his closed eye. Anders said nothing of it as he wiped away the blood with a clean, damp towel and inspected his partner's face closely. A spark of brilliant blue flashed between his fingers as he summoned forth a piece of the fade, energies that quickly wove together tender brown flesh where it had been split.

“Sorry,” Hawke muttered, quietly. “I don’t usually get so heated but…”

“But?” Anders encouraged, his voice low, calm. He was focused. Focused on his duty as a healer rather than a concerned lover, much as his internal thoughts shouted panic at him or Justice scrambled to make his voice heard in joyous approval over the news. The magic had done its job, and the gash properly healed. He resumed cleaning the blood from Hawke’s face.

“You weren’t there. You didn’t hear the things they were saying.”

_I don’t need to be there. I know. Maker, do I know._    
  
Anders’ hand cupped his other cheek, causing him to peer up at the healer (with a sole blue eye) in a moment of calm that fell over the clinic now. “There. You can open your eye now. It should be fine. No lasting damage.” He traced a single digit over his marred eyebrow. “It’ll leave a scar though, not much I can do about that.”

On command, Wyatt cautiously opened his right eye and blinked away the fog and blur to find it as Anders said. It was perfectly fine. His brows knitted together in frustration as if realizing his actions could easily bring trouble to the healer’s door, but he tenderly laid a hand against the one on his cheek.

“I would never let them hurt you, Anders. I promise.”

Hawke’s words did much to melt his cold detachment and burned into him. A swell of emotion fluttered in his chest and he sighed, content to have this man in his life knowing how fiercely he would fight for them. “I know, love. I know. Let’s worry about that arm first, however. Healing, then declaring your intent to fight every templar in this city for me. Does that sound like a plan?” He allowed the faintest grin to break through, and Hawke mirrored the expression following a chuckle.

“Mmm I’m not complaining. You’ve certainly shown how  _competent_  you are with those hands.”

A disgusted groan carried across the clinic, and the two men shared a snicker as Carver waved them off, making his departure known. Aveline followed suit and soon - _it was just the two of them._


End file.
